Draft

In the third year of my marriage, I endure a full day of painful labor to give birth to my first child. However, my husband steals the baby to give to his true love. I try my damnedest to stop him, but all I get is a barrage of insults. "It's just a baby! I'm the one who planted the seed, so I get to decide who gets the fruit!" I'm overwhelmed by grief as I watch my husband leave. However, he shares a happy post on his social media. "Mother and daughter are safe." His true love comments, "Thank you for giving me a child, Jaspie. I'll be the happiest woman in the world with you two by my side." Clueless friends bless them and wish them well. I silently comment, "Give me back my child." All I get is another round of insults. Then, I'm blocked. I don't want to endure this anymore. I hire a lawyer to draft divorce papers before making a police report. "Officer, I want to report my husband for child trafficking."

At a dinner party, my genius painter of a husband, Henry Shepherd, used his hands, hands insured for millions, to shell crabs for his young assistant, Tamara Lee. This was all to coax her into eating a few bites when she claimed she had no appetite. Meanwhile, I drank myself into a bloody mess, trying to secure investments for him. When I asked him to hand me some antacids, he refused without even looking up. “These hands are for painting. Use your own.” For ten years, he couldn’t even be bothered to change the way he treated me. That night, as I sobered up in the cold wind, I asked my lawyer to draft a divorce agreement. "Henry, in this vast, chaotic world, our paths end here," I said inwardly

"You’re mine, Emery. You always have been." Emery Hart is a lawyer, famous for crafting the perfect prenup agreement for couples. But her most frustrating client? The one and only billionaire, Darren Blackwood, her ex-husband. Every time he gets engaged, he hires her to draft the contract, only for the relationship to crash and burn. Emery tells herself it’s just business, but deep down, she knows the truth, Darren is still playing with her. When another prenup lands on her desk, she assumes it's just another fiancée. But Darren corners her, his voice low and possessive. "Did you even read it, sweetheart? This contract… it’s for you." Trapped in his games, Emery confronts the past she’s been running from. Because Darren never stopped wanting her and this time, he won’t let her go.